


empty rooms

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e16 What If..., F/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: In the far corner of the room, half her face lit up by the yellow parking lot lights cutting through the blinds, is Phil's ex-wife.Somehow, he really isn’t surprised.





	empty rooms

**Author's Note:**

> I was sorely disappointed that LMD Phil had the nerve to DECEIVE US about Framework philinda. But shineyma, good friend that she is, proposed this possibility, which I am equally sorry isn't canon, but I had fun playing with anyway.

Phil hates the school this time of day. For one, it’s night, so the whole place has a creepy, horror movie feel about it. For another, there are no students. The halls are eerily quiet with no kids running around. It’s just _wrong_.

But it’s where he works best. Something about the atmosphere of the classroom … he’s always worked better in them. So most nights he stays late, drinking the cruddy coffee from the teachers’ lounge, grading papers, and, tonight, reviewing his personal files.

He sips the coffee as he steps through the door of his room, forcing it down and ignoring the worrisome tinfoil aftertaste.

“Late night?”

His Grumpy Squid mug shatters against the floor and coffee splatters across the tile. In the far corner of the room, half her face lit up by the yellow parking lot lights cutting through the blinds, is his ex-wife.

Somehow, he really isn’t surprised.

He heads for the sink at the back of the room and the towel dispenser above it. “My kids are gonna need their midterm grades before their next quiz so they know how hard to study.”

“Or they could try their best.”

He tips a smile in her direction. “You don’t remember being a teenager, do you?” He pounds the lever on the dispenser; that cup was nearly full, he’ll probably use half the cheap roll on this. “When you’re young, there are more important things than studying what’s already happened.”

She’s quiet for a long time, long enough he starts to wonder if he should be worried. He probably should be. His ex-wife just showed up out of the blue, lurking in the shadows like some ninja assassin. Most guys would be a little concerned and they don’t even have exes who can make a phone call and have you disappeared, no questions asked.

Phil’s never been bothered by the work Melinda does though, except for when it hurt her.

“You called in a tip about a subversive,” she says when he’s turning back to clean up the spill. He catches her eye on the way, sees what might be worry. Or it might just be the way the shadows fall on her face.

“I thought the tip line was below your pay grade.”

That gets her out of her corner. She paces him across the room, stopping when they’re both clear of the rows of desks. “There’s nothing small about a subversive in a _school_ , talking to _kids_.”

Phil arranges the towels over the spill, letting them do their job sopping up the mess. “I didn’t see her talking to any kids. She said she was looking for me.”

“Why?” She steps forward. Now it’s just the coffee and towels and broken pieces of his mug between them. Hell of a mess. Kinda seems appropriate. “Why you?”

The light’s behind her but he knows Melinda better than probably anyone; he knows the way her voice goes tight like a bowstring when she’s scared.

“She was just some young woman, practically a kid herself. She looked like she’d been hurt, probably she wasn’t thinking clearly.” He doesn’t know why he’s defending her. It’s not to reassure Melinda - there are better ways to do that - but it feels right. He doesn’t want that poor girl getting roughed up when they find her; he wants them to help her.

“Did she say anything? Anything about why she wanted to talk to you?”

He quirks a smile and eases down to start gathering up the towels. After a few seconds, Melinda mirrors him and starts picking up the remains of his mug.

“She never mentioned you,” he says once he’s got the worst of the coffee up. It’ll take another go with some fresh towels, but it’s not too bad now. “She talked about SHIELD, said some crazy stuff - I mean _really_ crazy, worse than making your own soap.”

She doesn’t smile - if she ever does anymore, he hasn’t seen it in years - but her lips turn up and her eyes do that thing that still makes his heart go pitter-pat like he’s one of his students.

“She’s dangerous,” she says, snapping him out of it. “There’s an abandoned car outside, one of ours. That ‘kid’ took down two agents, stole the car and their weapons. It wasn’t chance, her coming here. The techs say she searched for you by name in our systems.”

That makes sense. What she said, about his life being a lie, it makes sense she’d look for him by name.

Another thought has him pausing, and he hurries to throw the towels away to cover it up. If his whole life’s a lie, what does that mean about Melinda? About the two of them? Was their life together real or another part of the deception?

“I’m leaving a team to watch you,” she says to his back.

He breathes out while he pulls more towels from the dispenser. The tightness in his chest leaves. Whatever else isn’t real, Melinda is. They are. Were. Whatever. He knows it down to his bones, just like he knows there’s something wrong about everything else.

“She took down those other agents easily enough,” he reminds her. “Why do you think another team will do better?”

Melinda grins. It’s not a smile, it’s way too vicious for that. “They will if they know what’s good for them. And if they don’t, we’ll find you a bed at the Triskelion until she’s no longer a threat.”

“You offering to share?” he asks, the teasing words slipping out before he thinks better of them. They aren’t those people anymore. She might care enough to put a detail on him, his heart might still go pitter-pat, but there’s still this gulf between them. Maybe that’s what always feels so wrong.

She rolls her eyes while she passes him by, leaving him to his work. He thinks - he could be wrong, but he _thinks_ \- he catches a glimpse of an honest to goodness smile as she draws even with him. Her hand taps flat against his shoulder. His whole body seems to come alive at the simple contact. “You wish.”

And then she’s gone, leaving him with the midterms and his paranoia and the empty halls. It’s way too quiet.

 


End file.
